*Ok, I feel like this post and its title run the unacceptable risk of making me sound waaay more badass than I really am. The previous night in question in fact consisted of me drinking one single free Colt 45, which tasted like an ashtray someone had vomited in, at which point I steadfastly insisted on retiring into the arms of a double hot fudge brownie sundae and Drop Dead Fred on the television. So what? So there.